I’m with Stephen. We’re spending the weekend together. (Not the WHOLE weekend-I am sleeping somewhere else, just to clarify.) We’re having a jolly good time, and I’m not going to want to leave come Sunday. Boo.

Conspiracy Theory is a good movie. Stephen’s dog is hyper. Stephen is going to learn how to play the guitar, and I’m going to teach, which means he won’t be able to play anything. That’s pretty much it.

Oh, and I’m happy. I think that’s enough choppy sentences for now.